The Same Starry Sky
by secondhandrose
Summary: On the 60th anniversary of Elphaba's death, Glinda finds herself re-thinking the life she has chosen. Oneshot. Character death.


**I am a very, very bad girl!!! I wrote this when I should have been updating my Pushing Daisies fic, "The Labors of Friendship, part 2". Let's face it...I have writer's ADD. I ust felt like writing some Wicked stuff. I have another oneshot in the making, so keep your eyes peeled!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Wicked or any of it's characters, so I am going to go drown my sorrows in a bowl of jello and listen to the soundtrack, kay?**

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Glinda Upland rocked gently back and forth on the patio in the rocking chair she had inherited from her mother quite some years ago. Her slippered feet made hissing noises as the brushed against the icy concrete, the sunset casting a fiery glow on the salt-and-pepper locks that cascaded down her hunched shoulders. Though the creaking of her chair and the howling of the wind added to the eeriness of the atmosphere, Glinda felt oddly at ease. Her trembling, yet well-manicured fingers absent-mindedly traced intricate patterns on the cover of the book she clutched close to her heart. The green leather bore large, gold letters that spelled out two words that meant little to most, but everything to Glinda: "The Grimmerie". Ah, yes, the Grimmerie. The book that she treasured, but was still unable to read. The book that had been given to her by the only true friend she'd ever had; the only person who had liked her for who she was, and not for what she possessed.

The creases framing her cloudy blue eyes deepened as she fondly remembered her roommate. It had been sixty years since she had seen her last. Sixty years! It was the sixtieth anniversary of Elphaba's death. Glinda found it hard to imagine that much time had passed. It seemed like just yesterday that she had taken the pink flower from her own hair and pinned it in Elphaba's ebony tresses. _Pink goes good with_ _green_ she thought to herself with another smile. She still believed it to be true. She reached up and searched for the synthetic petals of the flower that should have been secured near her ear, but instead came upon the cold metal of her crown. She winced and drew her hand away, hesitating before letting it rest back down on her lap. She'd forgotten that she hadn't worn that flower since the night Elphaba left. It had been replaced by the crown which she now wore on her head. Glinda no longer looked at her crown as a symbol of accomplishment, but rather a harsh reminder of the life she had chosen to live.

The night Elphaba left was still a night that was hard for Glinda to recall. She remembered Elphaba's determined expression, her emerald lips hardened into a thin line, and her bony fingers clenched around the splintery broomstick. Glinda remembered being almost able to choke on the hostility in the air. Elphaba had asked Glinda to go with her, to stay with her forever. She had tried to persuade her with the unlimited possibilities they could achieve together, the wonderful life that they could lead. Glinda had foolishly chosen to stay, however, to stay and become "Glinda the Good". _Good? _she thought as she snorted bitterly to herself. _Hardly._ Glinda remembered draping a cape around her friend's shoulders, in an attempt to keep her warm. She wouldn't have done it, though, if she had known it would be one of the things people would later associate with her "wickedness"_._ Stupid, idiotic, judgmental people. If anyone was to be labeled "wicked" it was them. How could they shun such a wonderful, ingenious person? The image of Elphaba taking flight flickered cross Glinda's hazy mind. She remembered watching Elphaba soar through the sky until she was no more than a spec against the darkness. That moment was the emptiest Glinda had ever felt in her life. She shivered, but whether it was from the cold wind that whipped against her or the chilling memory, she couldn't be sure.

But, that night was not the last night she had seen her friend. She had seen Elphaba a handful of times after that, but there was only one moment of any significance in her psyche. It was sixty years ago, the night Elphaba died. Elphaba had made Glinda promise that she would never clear her "wicked" name. Glinda had reluctantly agreed. She remembered that night all too well…..

"_Glinda, here. Go on, take it."_

"_Elphie….you know I can't read this."_

"_Well then, you'll have to learn."_

Glinda hugged The Grimmerie tighter as she recalled the moment it was given to her. She was slightly guilty that she had never learned to read the book, but she was far too old, now. Her diminishing eyesight made the task nearly impossible. Not that she was capable of obtaining anywhere near the skill of her friend. She and Elphaba, newly reunited, had poured their hearts out to each other, tying up any loose ends. She remembered Elphaba telling her that because of her "she had been changed for good". _That was a lie. _Glinda thought. _I didn't earn her anything she couldn't have earned for herself._

That brief moment was much too short. The friend's embraced, reluctantly released, and then that's when Elphaba was….was…..

Glinda couldn't let herself finish the thought. A single tear trailed down her cheek as she tried to shake the memory from her mind. It was bad enough that she had been forced to witness Elphaba's horrific demise; she didn't need to re-live it. Of course, there was one point that Glinda couldn't quite understand. After Elphaba's…. incident…Glinda had saved her friend's hat and cape. She had kept it on her dresser for a whole year, fingering it every night before bed until it had mysteriously disappeared. She wished she knew what had happened to it. She was just glad that whoever had stolen Elphaba's hat and cape had not gotten to The Grimmerie, too.

Sometimes Glinda wondered if she'd made the right decision to stay behind in Oz. Of course it had seemed the right move at the time; she was self-centered and naïve, then, only caring about what other people thought of her. She'd only focused on being loved by all and getting her way. Now though, the wiser, more thoughtful Glinda questioned that decision. Maybe if she had gone with Elphaba things would have been different. Maybe she could have convinced the citizens of Oz that Elphaba knew best, and that she was only trying to make life better. Of course, she'd never know if that could have been the case. And, in some ways, she was glad she wouldn't. She wasn't sure she could handle the guilt…

She had never, in all her 75 years, known a better friend than Elphaba. She sighed, watching the horizon solemnly swallow up the sun. "I miss you, Elphie" Glinda whispered to no one in-particular. "I always will." Something of a grin manifested itself on her rosy lips as her eyelids slipped shut for the last time.

If only she could have known that at that same moment, somewhere far away in Oz, Elphaba was very much alive, rocking back and forth in her rocking chair, stroking the hat and cape she had stolen from her friend's house 59 years ago and reminiscing about her college days under the same, starry sky.


End file.
